Ten Little Facts
by Little Patch of Heaven
Summary: Despite what others thought, they were not their parents. -10 drabbles focusing on each next generation character-
1. ASP Fact 1: Brooms

_- I've seen multiple fics like this, but I've never liked how the future generation characters are portrayed in them. So, I decided to try and do the 10 Things fics with my own versions of the characters. I'll start with my personal favorite, ASP, and continue with various other characters if I get asked to._

**_Disclaimer: If Harry Potter belonged to me, I wouldn't be wasting my time on fanfiction. I would be writing more books about the Marauder's and founders and future generations right now._**

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**Albus Severus Potter**

1) He can't fly a broom at all; it doesn't matter that his father is the famed _youngest __**seeker **_or his mother was a _professional __**chaser**_.

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Albus can remember the first time his father tried to teach him to ride a broom. His mother and Uncles had wanted in on it, naturally, but his father had insisted that it was something for just father and son to do. Albus supposed it had to do with the fact that Harry had not been present when Ginny had taught James, having been dragged away on an Auror mission, and had been very bothered not to witness his oldest son's first hours on a broom. He was completely determined to be the one to teach Albus when the time came and Ginny gave him the honor.

And so, Harry gladly took on the task of teaching Albus.

He hadn't thought that it would be that hard of a task; after all, surely those Weasely and Potter genes would cause Albus to be - _just like his brother -_ one of the most talented quiddich players to ever attend Hogwarts. Surely Albus would prove himself a born natural in the first few moments of flying.

The six year old seemed to have other plans.

Within the first ten minutes he had fallen off the broom a grand total of seven times and flown into three different bushes. Harry was absolutely relieved that he had not taken the boy up too high for his first lesson, as he had almost been tempted to at first.

Albus didn't even seem to enjoy flying at all. He whimpered whenever the wind blew and clutched onto his broom with all the strength he could muster; Harry thought he looked quite miserable indeed. But the boy refused to say so; he may have been too young to realize what he was expected to live up to, but even at that young age the boy was certain that James would tease him endlessly about it when they returned home. Therefore, he seemed determined to prove that _yes, he could too fly a broom just as well as James._

Finally, after a particularly bad fall - _resulting in a bloody knee and lots of tears_ - Harry told the boy to dismount. Albus had stared up at his father nervously, as if expecting to be punished for his failure.

Harry would have been lying if he had said he wasn't disappointed -_ he had, after all, expected that quiddich would be a love he could share with both his so_ns - but it was painfully obvious that flying was never going to be a skill his youngest son possessed.

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	2. ASP Fact 2: Friends

**Albus Severus Potter**

2) He's best friends with Scorpius Malfoy: a friendship that was only made stronger when the two realized just how _unexpected_ it was of them.

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"Dad? Dad, you said I could bring home a friend."

Harry glanced down at his son. Albus was looking up at him expectantly. With a sigh, Harry looked back at the blond boy in front of him.

"You could've warned me who your friend _was_, Al," Harry muttered, desperately trying to keep from glaring at the blond. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't the boy's fault he looked so much like his father. Still, it was rather hard **not **to glare at him. Same blond hair, same gray eyes, same pointed face; the kid was like a miniature version of Draco Malfoy.

"Dad, you're glaring." Albus sounded rather exasperated; Harry saw him shoot mini-Draco an apologetic look.

Harry tried to smile and held out a hand. "Hello, I'm -"

"Harry Potter," the boy said quickly, before he blushed, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, sir, it's just, everyone knows who you are."

Harry smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way - it was harder than he thought it would be. "But I don't know who you are." That was a lie; Albus shot him a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. Harry knew perfectly well that this was Scorpius Malfoy, twelve year old son of Draco Malfoy.

"Scorpius Malfoy, sir," the boy said meekly. He glanced around, as if looking for an exit.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. When he had been asked via letter whether or not Albus's friend could come stay for Easter break, he had never been entertaining the possibility that it would be the only son of his old rival. He hadn't even known that Albus and Scorpius had ever spoken to each other, let alone been friends.

"Well," he said, finally, grabbing Scorpius's things and loading them onto a trolley. "We'd better head home before your mother thinks something's happened." He turned away fromt the two second years to yell at James.

As the group headed towards the exit of Platform 9 ¾, Harry heard Albus whisper, "He didn't yell. You owe me a galleon."

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	3. ASP Fact 3: Artistic

_Two uploads in one day? How did this happen?_

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**Albus Severus Potter**

3) He's a fantastic artist, even though neither Harry nor a single Weasley can remember having anyone in their ancestry with artistic skill.

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As always, the playroom was in complete chaos.

Harry stared in horror at the daunting task ahead of him; how exactly had Ginny roped him into cleaning up after the kids? He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Three kids - _and each full of both Potter and Weasley genes _- sure could make a mess when they wanted to. In fact, the three could make a fairly big mess even when they _didn't_ want to. The playroom was covered in papers, crayons, dolls, toys - _and a rather large number of those were broken _- and various Weasley Wizard Wheezes products. Noticing the result of said products on the walls and carpet, Harry decided he was going to need to have a talk with George about the amount - and type - of gifts he was giving his neice and newphews. As if James - and even Albus and Lily - needed help causing trouble.

With a groan, Harry began picking up the drawings and coloring books that no doubt belonged to his young daughter, Lily. As he picked them up, he glanced down at them, smiling at the purple dragons and scribbly wizards. As Lily was only three, she still had trouble with the concept of coloring in the lines. Not that Harry minded at all; he found it only made her more adorable.

Harry pick up a small notebook. Flipping through it, he saw various drawings from Lily, along with a few from James - it was easy to see which were his, as they all depicted broomsticks and snitches. He stopped flipping, however, when his eyes caught on a rather exceptional crayon drawing. It was a drawing of a dragon, the pose copied straight out of one of Lily's various coloring books. Despite the fact that the dragon was drawn with green crayon and inexperienced hands, it was actually rather good. It was _very_ good, in fact.

Harry headed downstairs, still carrying the notebook in his hands.

"Ginny?" he called, glancing around for his wife.

"I'm in here," a voice called from the kitchen, and Harry entered it to see his wife at the table reading the morning's _Daily Prophet. _She looked up at her husband when he entered, smiling. "What is it, dear?"

He set the green dragon in front of her. She smiled, looking at it. "Looks like Albus's handiwork," she said, looking back up at him.

Harry only looked at the drawing in confusion. "He draws? Since when?"

Ginny laughed, pulling the notebook close. She flipped through more of the pages, skipping past the scribbled sketches from James and Lily, before finding a page full of more green drawings. There were dogs and owls and brooms and snitches. One of the drawings even seemed to be of Harry himself, complete with scar and glasses.

Harry stared in wonder. The drawings weren't masterpieces by any means, but who would expect that of a five year old? Still, the drawings were good enough to predict true artistic talent for the boy. "I don't know when he started, but I found him drawing with Lily one day. When I told him how good the drawings were, he started showing them to me. He's really talented," Ginny explained, looking up from the crayon Harry to smile at the real one.

Harry frowned. "How come he didn't show them to me?"

"Maybe he didn't realize you wanted to see them?"

The sound of crying alerted the two; they watched as Albus helped a crying Lily into the house. Her knee was scraped and she was sniffling sadly. "Lily fell," Albus explained simply. "It wasn't my fault," he added quickly.

"Oh honey, come here," Ginny said and the girl came running to her. As Ginny pulled out her wand to heal the scrape, Harry looked over at Albus.

"Al," he said, and the five year old looked at him. "Al, I saw your drawings." Harry pulled the notebook off the table, showing the page to his son.

Albus blushed, lowering his head. "They're not that good," Albus murmered, embarrassed, staring at his feet rather than his father.

Harry shook his head. "No, they're very good Albus. Would you show me more?" The boy nodded excitedly, running up to grab more journals and notebooks full of sketches_._

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	4. ASP Fact 4: Potions

_I realize the potions thing is a little overused, (along with the friendship with Scorpious) but whatever. *shrugs* Enjoy!_

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**Albus Severus Potter**

4) He's a potions prodigy, taking after his second namesake; some like to wager that he's even _better_ than Severus Snape himself was.

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"Lily, I have your medicine," Ginny called, entering the kitchen and glancing around for her eleven year old daughter.

Lily sat at the kitchen table, sipping a thick purple liquid out of one of Ginny's good glasses. Albus stood next to her, watching his sister intently. After finishing off the drink, Lily lowered the glass and smiled at her brother. A bit of the purple drink remained on her upper lip, but she didn't seem to notice. "Thanks Albie!" she cried happily.

Albus winced at the nickname, but appeared quite proud of himself anyway. "No problem, Lils," he said with a smile, accepting a bone-crushing hug from his younger sister.

"What exactly did Albus do?" Ginny asked curiously, taking a seat next to her daughter. Holding up the medicine in her hand, she turned towards Lily and said, "Okay, Lily, ready to take your medicine?"

Lily stubbornly shook her head. "I don't need it, Mum!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't go more than two minutes without coughing when I last saw you." Though now that she thought about it, Lily hadn't once coughed since Ginny had entered the kitchen.

Lily smiled. "Albie made me medicine because you were taking too long!"

Ginny stared at her son in surprise. "Albus made you medicine?"

Albus nodded shyly. "Yeah. We did a short study on medical potions this year."

Ginny looked at her daughter - who was no longer coughing horribly like she had been just minutes ago - and then to the empty glass on the table, and finally back to her thirteen year old son. "They taught you how to brew a coughing medicine in Potions class?" She certainly didn't remember learning how to brew that. Otherwise she would have simply brewed the medicine for her daughter rather than flooing to Diagon Alley to pick up a potion.

Albus shook his head. "No, but Professor Huntly suggested a book on medical potions for me to read. She said that I would find it interesting."

"Al, could you bring me this book, please?" Ginny asked. Albus nodded and hurried up the stairs to go grab the book. When he was gone, Ginny turned to look at her daughter with concern. She knew that Albus was exceptionally good with potions - and he _**had**_ been following directions - but it was still concerning to realize that Albus had given his sister a potion he had never brewed with a teacher before. "Lily, do you feel okay?"

Lily nodded. "I feel fine, Mum! My throat doesn't hurt at all, anymore! And Albie managed to make it taste like grape instead of the icky flavor cough medicine usually tastes like. Grape is my favorite, you know."

Albus suddenly came bounding down the stairs and back into the kitchen. He was carrying a thick book labeled Medical Potions For the Experienced, which he handed to his mother.

Ginny flipped through the book curiously, raising eyebrows at many of the potions; some of them she had never even heard of. How in the world did the Potions professor expect a third year to be able to brew any of these? And on his own, no less.

Finally, she found the recipe for cough medicine. She skimmed the list of ingredients and looked up at her son in confusion. "Albus, we don't own some of these ingredients."

"I know," Albus said. "But some of them were in my intermediate potions kit, and the rest of the stuff we didn't have, I just improvised."

Ginny stared at him in shock. "You _improvised_ with a potion you were going to give your _sister? _Albus Severus Potter, what were you _thinking?"_

Albus backed away slightly, looking ashamed. "But I knew what I was doing, Mum! I wouldn't give her anything that would hurt her!"

"It worked, Mum! Don't get mad at Albie!" Lily said, backing her brother up. "And I feel fine, now!"

Ginny took a few breaths. It was true that Lily looked much better than she had when Ginny had left. Looking back at the recipe in front of her, she noticed something else. According to the book, the potion was supposed to taste sour, and yet Lily had claimed it had tasted like grape flavoring. "Al, how did you make it taste like grape?"

Albus looked stumped. After a moment of silence, he replied. "Well, I'm not really sure; I just mixed a few different ingredients and managed to make it taste that way. I could give you a list of what I used, I remember everything."

Ginny nodded, staring at him in astonishment, and Albus began to copy the ingredients down onto a sheet of paper. Lily looked back and forth from Albus to Ginny before asking, "Can I go ask Anna to play, Mum? Since I'm not sick anymore?" Ginny nodded and Lily ran off to go owl her friend.

When Albus finished up his list, he handed it to his mother and took the book back from her. "Albus," Ginny called as the boy headed up the stairs. He stopped and looked back at his mother in confusion. "Yeah, Mum?"

"You really haven't brewed that potion before today?"

Albus looked confused by her question. "No, Mum."

"And you didn't find it complicated at all? Not even to improvise or change the flavoring?"

Albus smiled. "No, Mum."

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	5. ASP Fact 5: Sorting

_Wow, I sure am updating this quite frequently, aren't I? It's all thanks to Thanksgiving break, probably. Oh, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!  
On another note, yay, Sorting! You all knew it was coming sooner or later, though, didn't you? Yes, I know Slytherin is a bit overdone, but honestly, I really can't imagine him anywhere else. (and really, that conversation in the epilogue totally set him up for being in Slytherin.)_

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**Albus Severus Potter**

5) He was sorted into _**Slytherin**_; not because he's _evil_, as James tells him, but very simply because he has a _very_ large ambition.

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"Well, well, another Potter. I was wondering when another one of you would show up."

Albus suddenly felt very foolish for being relieved that the sorting involved only an old hat. Harmless old hat or not, the thing was _poking around in his head_; the thought was **terrifying**. He desperately wished he knew how to close off his mind; it would be nice if he was certain that all his secrets were guarded from the Sorting Hat.

"Well that would quite defeat the purpose of my being here in the first place, wouldn't it?"

Albus tried not to whimper when the hat spoke again. Who in the world decided they should have a stupid hat poke around in students heads? It was downright creepy.

"Creepy? I take offense to that!" Albus managed to calm his breathing long enough to whisper an apology. "No need to talk out loud, dear boy. I can read your thoughts, remember?" It would have been nice if the hat didn't remind him of that. "If you calm down, I'll have this done quickly." Now the hat sounded rather cross; perhaps he really had offended it earlier. But surely he couldn't have been the first student to think that. "Ignoring that," the hat muttered irritably. "Now, let's see…well, you're certainly no Gryffindor."

Albus nearly fell off the stool. Not a Gryffindor? How could he NOT be in Gryffindor? All of his family was in Gryffindor! Well, excluding Teddy, who had followed his mother into Hufflepuff. Then again, Teddy wasn't truly family. But Albus was a Potter! Heck, his mother was a Weasley! There was no way he could go into anything other than Gryffindor.

_Why not Gryffindor?_ he thought, a little scared to hear the answer. Maybe all James's taunts were actually true. Or maybe not all of them; he couldn't possibly be the Dark Lord reborn..._right_?

"I thought that would be obvious," the hat replied, breaking Albus out of his unsettling train of thought. "You're a bit too paranoid for Gryffindor."

_I'm not paranoid!_

"And yet you have actually been entertaining the thought that you are the Dark Lord reborn?" the hat asked.

Albus had no reply for that, so he kept quiet - he did, however, blush so much that he was very relieved no other student could currently see his face. The boy was suddenly under the impression that had the hat had eyes, it would have been rolling them.

As the hat went on mumbling about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Albus remembered what his father had said on the platform. Steeling up all the courage he could manage - which, according to the hat, wasn't all that much - he thought as clearly as he could, _NOT SLYTHERIN!_

The hat quieted it's mutterings at once. "Not Slytherin, hmmm?" it asked. "My then, you are just like your father, aren't you?"

Albus's eyes narrowed. _I am not just like my father!_ Calling him paranoid was one thing; saying he was just like his father - a statement he had to hear _everywhere_ he went - was something completely different. _Just because I look like him doesn't mean -_

The hat cut him off - and it was a very odd thing, being interrupted by a hat - by saying, "Oh, of course not. Looking just like someone doesn't mean a thing, does it? No, you're similar, but you're certainly not just like him."

Well now he was curious. _What do you mean?_

"You have a few gifts your father didn't, I can see that. And you're a bit more ambitious."

Albus paled. Ambitious? Wasn't that the key factor for sorting someone into Slytherin? Well, that and cunning, which Albus certainly would never call himself. But maybe, if the hat thought he was ambitious enough, would overlook that and - he bit his lip to keep from whimpering again. _Please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin!_ he begged.

"Ah, you want to go into Gryffindor, then?"

_Yes!_

"Very well," the hat said, and Albus smiled - once again, he was relieved that none of the other students could see his face right now; he probably looked like a fool, grinning as wide as he was. "But I will warn you: if you go into Gryffindor, you will only ever be seen as your father."

The smile was wiped off his face immediately. _W-what do you mean?_

"You will never amount to anything special; you will only ever be Harry Potter's son. But you don't want that, do you?"

_No. No, no, no._

"I can see your thoughts, Albus Severus Potter. You want to be your own person; you don't want to spend your whole life living in your father's shadow. And if you are sorted into Slytherin, you will show people that you are not your father. You will be your own person."

Albus sat, dumbfounded. _B-but….Slytherin is only for evil wizards, isn't it?_

"That belief is completely false," the hat said at once, sounding completely irritated by the even thought. "Salazar Slytherin was no more evil than the other three founders, and neither is his house. I'm surprised you don't know that. Aren't you named after a Slytherin? A head of Slytherin, no less."

_Oh…_ was all Albus could manage in reply. It was true, his father had told him that on the platform; somehow he had forgotten it in all his worries of being sorted into Slytherin.

"Now, I can see that your father explained that I allowed him a choice. Against my better judgment, I will give you the same choice: Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

Albus thought about it. He knew that his whole family expected him to go into Gryffindor; even his father, who had told him there was absolutely nothing wrong with being in Slytherin, had fully expected him to go into Gryffindor. Would everything really be okay if he was sorted into Slytherin? Would his family really be okay with that? But then again, did that even matter?

Taking a deep breath - though, in hindsight, it wasn't really necessary to do so - he thought in the loudest possible thought he could manage, _I don't want to just be Harry Potter's son. I don't want to be thought of as just a copy of my father._

Maybe he was just imagining it, but the Sorting Hat sounded almost gleeful as it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

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	6. ASP Fact 6: Snake

**Albus Severus Potter**

6) He's _secretly_ a parseltongue, even though his father hasn't been one since the final defeat of Voldemort.

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The snake had been staring at him for the past five minutes; he was starting to get seriously freaked out.

Albus tried to appear interested in the owl cages around him, attempting to look unbothered even as he felt the snake's gaze on him. Perhaps he was being paranoid - he was often told he was - but he _swore_ that the snake had **_not_ _once_** turned it's gaze from him since he had come into it's sight.

Towards the front of the store he heard James begging for a hawk; his brother was attempting to convince his father than a hawk could carry letters just as well as an owl, if not better. Albus almost laughed when he heard his father tell James he could buy the hawk himself if he wanted to waste the money on it. Almost, because he was still very distracted with the thought that a _snake_ was staring at him.

Nervously, Albus turned to look at the snake again. It's black eyes were **still** staring straight at him; with a shudder, the boy turned away from it quickly.

After looking through cages for a few more minutes - without actually noticing what he was looking at - he finally stomped towards the snake cage and, mustering all the courage he had, glared right back through the glass.

It was odd for the shop to even have a snake; everyone knew that _Voldemort_ himself owned a pet snake. Why would any respectable witch or wizard own one? Not to mention, snakes symbolized Slytherins, and according to James and his Uncle Ron, the whole lot of them were almost as bad as Voldemort himself. Albus wasn't quite sure he believed that - especially considering his mother, father, and Aunt Hermonie were always quick to remind him not _**all**_ Slytherins were evil - but he still wouldn't want to be associated with Slytherin in anyway. He found it odd for the owner to be attempting to sell a snake when so many people disliked them.

Albus wondered how long that snake had been here, waiting to be sold and yet, never being bought. Probably never even considered. Why would anyone want to be associated with Slytherins or the Dark Lord in any way? He almost felt sorry for it, though. Almost, because it's stare was _**still**_ freaking him out.

"What are you staring at?" Albus growled, trying to keep the whimper out of his voice. He decided not to focus on the thought that he was attempting to get a reasonable answer out of a snake. The snake blinked at him. Albus frowned. "It's kind of scary." The snake looked offended. "Well, it is!" Albus exclaimed.

"Al, you alright back there?" his father called.

Albus turned around to tell him he was perfectly fine, before looking back at the snake. The reptile was still staring intently at him, though it had relaxed it's position and was no longer poised to strike. It looked tired and old - or at least, he _thought_ it did, as he hadn't really seen many snakes to compare it with. "Have you been here a long time?" Albus asked curiously. After a moment of staring, the snake moved it's head in what was undoubtedly a nod.

Albus nearly fell over in shock. It was one thing for him to be talking to a snake; it was an entirely other thing for the snake to actually respond.

"Oh, uh, well," Albus began awkwardly, staring at the snake in wonder. Well, it was in a store for magical animals, he reminded himself; perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised that it seemed to understand him. "I'm sorry about that. You don't seem like you'd make such a bad pet." Albus swore the snake smiled at him now; even the way it flicked out it's tongue seemed to show appreciation for his comment.

"Al, we're leaving!" his father called suddenly from the front of the store.

Albus turned to leave, but not before turning back to the snake and saying, "I hope someone buys you soon!"

As he left, he was almost positive he heard a soft voice say, "Thanksssss."

_**-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-**_

"A true Slytherin, now, aren't you," someone laughed.

Albus turned away from the snake in front of him to glare at the fourth year slowly approaching him. "I'm just curious about why there's a snake on the grounds, that's all," he countered. Standing up, he frowned at the blond beside him.

"Well, I'm curious about that, too," Scorpius replied. "But I'm not hissing at it." He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You were hissing, weren't you?"

Albus stared at the snake, avoiding the gaze of his friend. He had stumbled upon the snake only a few minutes ago, as he had been walking through the grounds. It was a harmless garden snake, minding it's own business and not doing anyone any harm; nevertheless, it was strange to see a snake of any kind slithering around on the grounds.

"Yeah," Albus murmured finally. "I was." He hadn't seen anyone around and had thought it perfectly safe to ask the snake where it had come from without anyone seeing him. James hadn't been around to make fun of his 'slytherin-ness' - _James's words, not his _- and no one else was around to wonder why the son of the great wizarding hero, Harry Potter, was talking to snakes. Albus had heard stories of his father's own Parseltongue skill, of course; however, his father had also told him that it was only the part of Voldemort in him that had given him that ability. According to his father, as soon as that part of him was dead, the ability was gone as well. But what did it mean, then, if Albus had that ability?

"And did it understand you?" Scorpius sounded amazed. Albus looked over at him to see the blond staring at the snake in wonder. He seemed to be working through something in his head before he looked back at Albus, a knowing smile on his face. "You're a parseltongue, aren't you?"

Albus sighed heavily. "You better not tell anyone about it."

Scorpius seemed confused, but nodded nonetheless. "Not if you don't want me to."

"None of my family, either. And **especially** not James, alright?"

"You mean they don't know?" he sounded shocked, before he chuckled and added in a joking tone, "Well, I don't feel quite so offended that you didn't tell me, now." Albus didn't reply, but turned to the snake instead. Scorpius watched with wide eyes as Albus told to snake to go to the Forbidden Forest - as it likely wouldn't do very well on the school grounds the next day, when all the students would see it.

"That's really impressive, you know? Wish I could do that."

Albus rolled his eyes. "No, you don't."

"So…why haven't you told anyone in your family?" He paused, narrowing his eyes at Albus. "This isn't another one of your paranoia issues, is it? Ow!" He rubbed his arm, now sore from Albus's punch, scowling at the black haired boy.

Albus scowled right back at him. "I don't have paranoia issues!"

His friend merely rolled his eyes. "Right, course not. What was I thinking? Why then, haven't you told your family?"

"I don't know…just…well, it's just that snakes represent evil, you know?"

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "You do realize your own house mascot is a snake, right?" he deadpanned.

Albus went to punch his arm again but the blond dodged it. "So? Why do you think people think Slytherins are all evil? Besides the whole Death Eater thing, of course!" Scorpius opened his mouth to say something, but Albus continued on, not letting his friend get a word in. "And Voldemort loved snakes, everyone knows that. He had a pet snake! And according to my Uncle Ron, he put part of his _soul_ in it! And I'm Harry freakin' Potter's son! I can't be evil! I can't talk to snakes! Hell, it's bad enough that I'm in Slytherin!"

Scorpius watched in mild amusement as his friend began pacing, still ranting. Finally he decided to cut in. "I thought you were proud to be a Slytherin?"

Albus halted, staring at him in surprise. Scorpius bit back a laugh at his dumbfounded expression; knowing Albus, the boy had probably become so worked up that he had forgotten the other boy was even there. "I-I am. I mean, now I am. It's just…" he muttered, looking at the ground. "What if it's a sign? That I'm a parseltongue, I mean. What if it means I'm…you know."

"No, actually I don't know," Scorpious said, staring at his friend in bemusement. "If you were about to say 'evil' then you're more crazy than I thought." Albus lowered his head. "Blimey, Al! You can barely watch Hagrid feed some of his creatures because you _feel bad _for their _prey_! You are definitely **not** evil. Absolutely paranoid, but not evil."

Albus managed a soft laugh.

"And furthermore, if you honestly think that your family is going to disinherit you because you're a parseltongue, you're _completely_ mental."

Albus smiled. "You're right." With one last look at the place the snake had last been, he turned to follow Scorpius into the castle.

"We better not have missed dinner," Scorpius warned. "I'm starving."

Albus laughed. "When are you **not **starving?" he asked, dodging a swipe from the blond.

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_Did anyone spot the AVPM/AVPS reference? If you did, you win a virtual cookie. :D_

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	7. ASP Fact 7: Boggarts

**Albus Severus Potter**

7) When they face boggarts in third year, his looks remarkably similar to his _father_.

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The third year students are expected to face a lone boggart for their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L; they are evaluated by Professor Cadwick: a man who, though nice enough of a professor and well liked among his students, is **not** someone Albus wants to reveal his deepest fears to. He supposes it is at least a step up from being forced to face the boggart amongst his fellow classmates; he takes some comfort in the fact that should his boggart turn into something completely embarrassing, he can trust Professor Cadwick to at least accept it without question and keep quiet about it, something he doubts he could trust his peers to do.

He's supposed to imagine the scariest thing he possibly can, along with possible ways to make that very thing completely hilarious. He does just this as he waits in the hallway for Scorpius to finish his own evaluation. Albus tries, very, very hard, to imagine just what the boggart will become when he faces it; he draws a complete blank. He doesn't find spiders scary, like Uncle Ron does. His many female cousins' fears of snakes and monsters and mummies and dragons certainly do not faze him. He would never say he's fearless - if he were, he would be in Gryffindor, wouldn't he? - and yet he can't think of a _single_ thing the boggart could transform into that would scare him.

Albus wonders what would happen if he walked in and the boggart turned into nothing frightening at all. Would he be famous for being the first to discover a boggart's true form? Would he instead be labeled a freak? Would people admire his apparent lack of fear? Would people _fear_ it?

Albus abruptly cuts off that train of thought with a shake of his head. Hasn't his father informed him he worries too much? Didn't the Sorting Hat even tell him he was prone to paranoia? He's obviously over thinking it. It's likely the boggart will simply become some mundane fear that he didn't realize he had until then; he'll simply state the spell - _Ridiculus _- _he certainly knows it perfectly as he's made sure to master it_ - and then be on his merry way. In fact, he'll gain new knowledge from the whole ordeal; he'll learn of a new fear that had been buried before.

That's all; certainly nothing to worry about.

But then the doors to the classroom open and Scorpius comes out, looking slightly more wide-eyed and pale than Albus has ever seen him - _and is he breathing strangely? _- and says, "All yours, mate." And just like that, three simple words are enough to cause Albus to spiral once more into worry and hopelessness.

But Scorpius - who obviously knows him well after these three years - pats him on the back and smiles. "Quit worrying, Al. You'll be fine." And with that the blond leaves, strolling down the hall without a care in the world. But he wouldn't have any, would he? He doesn't have to go face a boggart without a single idea of what it will become. _'Well now you're just being ridiculous,'_ he tells himself, shaking his head. _'He had to go face the stupid boggart, too.'_

Al knows perfectly well that Scorpius is absolutely terrified of Death Eaters - despite never having met one besides his own father - and he's sure that Scorpius had to somehow humiliate one of the Dark Lord's servants - or rather, the boggart from of one of his servants - just minutes ago.

Albus sighs. All this worrying and wondering is driving him insane - and is certainly not doing him no good.

With one last deep breath, he steps into the classroom and pulls the doors shut.

On the far side of the room, an old chest sits, jumping and lurching every few seconds. Albus has no doubt that it contains his soon-to-be-fear. Professor Cadwick stands just to the left of the chest, wand poised, ready to open the chest lid and send some unknown horror racing towards the nervous third year.

"You ready, Albus?" Cadwick asks and Albus nods despite the fact that _no, he is not ready in the least. _"Here we go," the professor whispers before unlocking the chest with a simple wave of his wand.

The chest lid flies open, but the boggart does not come hurtling at Albus as he had expected. Instead, he sees a single human hand grasp the side of the chest, followed shortly by another. The hands are followed by wrists and then elbows and then shoulders until finally the form emerges to be in full view.

Albus stares.

Not in horror, but in complete and utter confusion.

His father - _Savior of the World, Wizarding Hero _- Harry Potter stares back at him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Albus sees Cadwick glance first at the boggart and then at Albus with poorly concealed worry. He opens his mouth and Albus rushes to raise his wand before the professor can question him on his situation at home, which is all perfectly fine and dandy, but certainly none of the professor's business.

He's in the process of figuring out how exactly to turn his father into something humorous - wondering at the same time why the boggart would chose to turn into something so obviously non-frightening for him - when he realizes something.

The glasses are there, the green eyes are there, the black mess of hair is there, but the scar is not. He stares harder into the face of the boggart and makes a startling discovering: the boggart has not taken the form of his father, it's taken the form of _Albus Severus Potter_.

But his father's glasses are on the boggart-Albus's face - never mind the fact that Albus has never needed glasses in his life - and he wears his father's Gryffindor robes - even though the real Albus is currently wearing robes adorned with a green and silver snake.

Albus no longer stares in confusion; now he stares in horror.

He barely registers his actions as he yells the required spell, hardly acknowledges as the boggart-Albus is suddenly reduced to wearing nothing but his boxers. Albus thinks he might have even managed a weak, half-hearted laugh but he can't be sure.

He rushes out of the classroom before Cadwick has a chance to question him at all and races down the hallway.

Boggarts _**always**_become one's greatest fear.

A future as a mere copy of his father, never known as his own independent person - it was only a boggart, so why is he still so completely terrified?

* * *

_I think this one is my favorite so far.  
Okay, after I finish up with Albus - and I only have three left now - I plan to move onto the next NextGen character and then the next, until I finish them all. So, two questions:_

_1) Should I do James Sirius Potter or Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy next?  
2) Should I continue with this fic, and just make each ten chapters a new character, or start new fics for each one?_

_And as ever, please review._


	8. ASP Fact 8: Stories

**Albus Severus Potter**

8) He alone of the Weasley-Potter children does **not** enjoy hearing stories of the war; perhaps it's because only he picks up on the pained look in his family's eyes as they tell the stories.

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"Daddy!" At the sound of the shriek, Harry dropped his newspaper in shock. He watched as a young girl ran into the room. "Lily?" he asked worriedly. "Lily, what is it?"

The redhead only smiled and climbed up into her father's lap. "Daddy, will you tell us a story?" she asked sweetly, looking up at him. James and Albus followed her into the room, both attempting to look disinterested as they sat beside their father. Harry smiled at them; he set down the paper, placing his now free arms around his daughter.

"Sure thing, Lily-flower," he replied. Lily cheered happily. "What do you want to hear?" The seven-year-old's face scrunched up in concentration as she thought about it.

James answered for her, excitedly shouting, "The war!" At once Lily stopped her concentrating and nodded in agreement, though if Albus had to guess he would say that Lily - who didn't really care for war stories - was agreeing only to make her older brother happy. It certainly worked, for James reached across Albus to give his younger sister a high five.

Harry smiled softly, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Albus watched his father in confusion. Why would stories of the war make him sad? He won, didn't he?

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked James quietly, his eyes looking sadder than Albus had ever seen them. He looked sadder, even, than he had when the family's dog - Padfoot - had died only the year previous. And seeing as that was horribly and completely sad, Albus thought, then the war stories must be much, much worse.

"I don't want to hear war stories," Albus proclaimed suddenly, before James even had a chance to open his mouth. The other three looked at him curiously.

It wasn't really true; as a young boy of nine, he enjoyed stories of fights and wars almost - but not nearly - as much as James did. Which, judging from the way the older boy acted them out for hours after they were told, was quite a lot.

However, if his father thought war stories were sadder than Padfoot, he didn't want to hear them at all.

"I want to hear Babbity Rabbity," Albus said stubbornly, ignoring James's melodramatic moan.

Lily looked excited at the very thought of the story. James, rolling his eyes, said, "Babbity Rabbity is for little kids, Al."

Immediately Lily nodded her consent, saying, "Yeah. It's a little kid story. So I don't wanna hear that."

Harry laughed at her, pulling her close. "Oh, of course you don't," he said, smiling.

"But **I **do," Albus pointed out, glaring at James.

James crossed his arms. "Fine, whatever," he muttered irritably.

Harry chuckled as his son, before launching into the tale that he had read out of Hermoine's book years ago. As he began acting out each part, with assist from Lily, even James became interested.

Albus smiled, listening to the story. He had heard the tale of Babbity Rabbity hundreds of times by now; so much that he very nearly had it memorized word for word. It didn't matter to him what story his father told.

But he was very happy to see there was no sadness in Harry's eyes as he spoke of Babbity Rabbity.

* * *

_I struggled with this one a bit; I had the fact, I just didn't know how to show it._

_please review_


	9. ASP Fact 9: Inheritance

**Albus Severus Potter**

9) He doesn't need the Marauder's Map, as he finds most of the school's secret tunnels and passages on his own (and bribes Fred to tell him the locations of the others); he gladly accepts his father's Invisibility Cloak, though.

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It was not rare to find Albus spending his free time in the library; this had nothing to do with reading or studying, though. It wasn't that he didn't read; in fact, he enjoyed reading quite a lot - and actually enjoyed it over quidditch. But for all the time he spent in the library, less than half of that was actually spent reading or studying. That was what the common room was for, after all.

The main reason Albus so often found himself in the library was due to the simple fact that he had quite a few friends in different houses. The majority of these friends, of course, were actually his own family members. After all, both his siblings, as well as a large number of cousins, were in Gryffindor. Still more cousins had been sorted into Ravenclaw. And because of this he had become friends with still _**more**_ Gryffindors and Ravenclaws after his cousins had introduced him.

Due to his being in Slytherin - and these many friends and family members being, well, _**not**_ in Slytherin - it was impossible for him to see them after curfew in the common room; he was glad that at least some of his classes were with other houses, but often times, the Slytherins had class alone - and even though he did have classes with some of the others, being that it was class made it very hard to hold a conversation with them.

And so, in order to see many of those friends, Albus spent much time in the school's library, where other house members could talk with him without breaking the rules.

Albus had just sat down at a table and started writing one of his many reports - which happened to be a rather long and boring summary of the Great Troll War of 1865 - and had been hoping beyond hope that Rose Weasley might show up and be persuaded to write it for him when a very different person took a seat across from him. And immediately groaned loudly to get the other boy's attention.

Albus looked up from his report, coming face to face with a very annoyed Scorpius Malfoy. "What's the matter with you?" Albus asked curiously, his report completely forgotten. "You look like you were forced to kiss a troll."

Scorpius made a disgusted face at the comment, but otherwise ignored it. "I can't go to Hogsmeade this weekend," he said sourly, laying his forehead on the table in front of him.

Albus's eyes widened. "Why?" His friend grumbled something he couldn't quite hear into the table. Albus began running through the possible reasons in his head. "Did your dad not sign the permission slip?"

The blond raised his head to reply audibly. "No, Father sighed it. It's McGonagall that's not letting me go."

"But why would the headmistress stop you from going to Hogsmeade?" Albus asked, completely confused. Headmistress McGonagall may have been very strict, but she wasn't wicked. And denying any kid the right to go to Hogsmeade was downright evil.

Scorpius frowned, hesitating. Then he looked back up at Albus and began explaining quickly, "Well, do you recall how last week I hexed Tony Drott?" Albus attempted to remind Scorpius that he had punched the boy as well, but Scorpius kept talking. "Well, I hexed him again two days after that." Albus quirked an eyebrow, surprised. He certainly hadn't heard about that one. "And…." Scorpius glanced away. "….today too."

"Bloody hell, mate!" Albus said, caught between wanting to smack his friend on the head for his idiocy and laughing out loud. After all, Tony Drott, a rather obnoxious Gryffindor in their year, wasn't necessarily a nice person, and Albus had been tempted to hex him a few times himself. However, Albus was a fairly mild-mannered person, and had always been able to calm himself down before he did something stupid. Scorpius was also rather passive, choosing to avoid and ignore taunts rather than face them head on. He did have a breaking limit, however, and Drott new all the best ways to push the blond's buttons.

Drott was from a wizarding family, and had grown up hearing all about Voldemort and his many supporters, the Malfoy's included. It seemed to be Drott's sincere belief that Scorpius was either starting a Voldemort fan club or planning to become the next dark lord himself. While most times Scorpius managed to ignore his taunts and stay out of his way when teacher's weren't present, it seemed Drott was determined to get a rise out of him. And after pushing so hard, he had managed to make the blond snap. Three times, it seemed.

"So," Scorpius continued, "Instead of adding more detentions to the week's worth I've already got, McGonagall decided keeping me away from Hogsmeade was the best way to punish me." He scowled; Albus supposed if looks could really kill, the table would most likely spontaneously combust, possibly taking Albus with it.

He thought back to the time Scorpius had hexed Drott the first time; he had actually been there that time. Albus frowned, asking, "Did he say the same things again? Is that why you decided to hex him again?"

Scorpius waited a long time before answering; Albus sat patiently - or rather as patiently as he possibly could.. Finally, the blond spoke. "Yes."

"Well then he should be punished too!"

Scorpius nodded slowly. "He was. Well, somewhat. Managed to scrape by with just two night's detention and a fun weekend in Hogsmeade, the git."

"But that's not fair!" Albus exclaimed. After receiving a stern glare from the librarian he lowered his voice and continued. "He's the one being a bloody arse! He's the one who said -"

Scorpius cut him off. "Yes, I know. I really shouldn't have reacted that way," he said, smiling bitterly. "I mean, I should be used to it by now."

Albus glared at him. "You're not a damn Death Eater, Scorp." Scorpius looked away, not willing to have an argument the two had frequently. After all, the topic had popped up time and time again their first year; while it had not come up as frequently the next two years, there were always idiots like Tony Drott willing to bring it up again.

Albus huffed irritably, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Staring at Scorpius, he asked sternly, "Did you tell McGonagall that he charmed that quill to draw the Dark Mark on your arm?"

Scorpius flinched and glared at him. "No, I didn't, actually," he said crossly.

"Well why not? He wouldn't be getting away with only two detentions if you told her!"

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. "I didn't want anyone to see it." He didn't say anything more on the matter, but Albus knew his friend well and could hear the reason just as clearly as if Scorpius had said it aloud.

"_I didn't want anyone to think it belonged there."_

* * *

Albus sighed, staring at the long stretch of snow in front of him. Ahead of him, Hagrid was accepting permission slips, allowing those who had them to head towards Hogsmeade. Albus clutched his own permission slip tightly in his hand, debating. It was the first time he was not excited to go to Hogsmeade; it just wouldn't be the same without Scorpius.

He just wished there was some way he could smuggle his friend out with him, but Hagrid would easily recognize the blond and Albus was sure McGonagall had informed him that the boy was not allowed to go. Now, if only there was some way they could get Scorpius by without being seen.

Albus stood thinking for a full five minutes before it dawned on him, and he felt very stupid indeed.

* * *

Albus's first guess to his friend's whereabouts was correct; Scorpius was indeed spending his time in the library. He had a stack of books beside him and Albus had no doubt that the blond was planning to finish them all by the time Albus came back.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? Haven't you read this five times already?" Albus asked curiously, sliding into the seat besides his friend.

Scorpius jumped and whipped his head around to face Albus. "Wha - but you - didn't you - ?" He sputtered for a moment before regaining his composure. "I happen to find it a very interesting read," he replied, setting the book down. "And weren't you headed off to Hogsmeade?"

"Oh come on, it just wouldn't be the same without you."

Scorpius opened his mouth and Albus - who knew that the blond would yell at him for missing out on the fun just for his sake - quickly clamped his hands over his friend's mouth. Scorpius narrowed his eyes but Albus simply smiled cheerfully at him. "Come on, I have a surprise."

When they were finally far enough away from the library, standing alone in a deserted corridor with no one around to see them, Albus lifted up his robes and pulled from them a silky, shimmering cloak. Scorpius's eyes widened at once.

"We're going to go?" Albus nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. Scorpius did not look so pleased. "Walking there would take far to long, Al. They use the carriages, remember?"

"Well, the Cloak wasn't really the surprise," Albus said, grinning. "Come on, follow me. Oh wait," he paused and turned back towards Scorpius. "You might want to summon your coat; it's pretty cold out."

Once the coat had made it's way from the common room and into Scorpius's hands, they were off. Albus was in the lead, obviously knowing where he was headed as he turned down corridor after corridor. Scorpius prayed he wasn't just getting them hopelessly lost.

Finally, Albus stopped in front of a large mirror mounted on the wall. "Um, Al?" Scorpius asked uncertainly, glancing back and forth between Albus and the mirror. "This is it?" Albus grinned at him, nodding and Scorpius sighed. "Well, it's a lovely mirror, Al, but I don't think it's-"

"_Alohomora." _Albus said, tapping the mirror with his wand and effectively cutting off the rest of Scorpius's sentence. They watched as the mirror swung open towards them, revealing a long tunnel.

Scorpius learned in, gazing at the tunnel in wonder. Turning back to look at Albus, he saw that the other boy was grinning smugly at him. "Oh," he said stupidly and Albus laughed. Scorpius looked back into the tunnel, examining it. "Where does it lead?"

"The cellar of the Three Broomsticks. As long as we have the cloak we can sneak out without anyone questioning our sudden appearance," Albus replied.

Scorpius looked at him curiously. "How did you find it, anyway?"

Albus made a face that was somewhere between amused, prideful, and a grimace. He shook his head with a sigh and explained, "Three months ago, I was running from James. Slytherin beat Gryffindor at the Quidditch game, remember?"

He frowned when Scorpius chuckled. "Certainly. James was pretty angry about it."

"It's not funny. I don't even **_play_** Quidditch and he decided to prank me."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Your brother pranks anything that breathes, Al. He doesn't need a reason."

Albus scowled. "Anyway, I tried avoiding him, and finally he decided he was just going to take the direct approach and hex my hair red and gold. So I ran for it, and stumbled upon this tunnel entrance while looking for a place to hide." He looked pretty proud of his achievement.

"Wait," Scorpius said, frowning. "If you found this three months ago, why didn't you tell me until now? We could have been sneaking to the Three Broomsticks for butterbears!"

Albus laughed and pushed past him to step into the tunnel. Scorpius mock-glared at him, before following him into the tunnel.

"Come on," Albus said, pulling the Invisibility Cloak on over them, effectively hiding them from view.

"Well," Scorpius said with a grin, pulling the mirror shut behind them. "There certainly are perks to being your friend."

* * *

_There were three passages to Hogsmeade unknown to Filch in PoA, according to the twins. One of them, they advised Harry going to for a reason I forgot. The next one required a password that Harry got from the Marauder's Map; because Albus doesn't have the map, he can't use that one. The third is the one behind the mirror; the twins say it got blocked, but I figured a magic castle would eventually fix itself. And I don't think it ever says where that one leads, does it?_

_Anyway, wow. Only one left. This last one may take a little longer, because I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out what to write for it. Hopefully it will be up soon, though._

_The next character will be James Siriius Potter. After that, it will probably be Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. (after that, I'll take another poll to see what character people want.) The first JSP fact will be uploaded as the eleventh chapter of this fic; I'm choosing not to separate them into different fics because it's possible that differnent character's facts will reference earlier ones, and I don't want anyone confused if they hadn't read all of them._

_Whew, long note. Anyway, please review!_


	10. ASP Fact 10: Name

_AN: Sorry for the delay! I've had a very busy December and start of January. Not to mention, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. I knew exaclty what I wanted to say...just not how to show it. Does that make sense? Anyway, to make up for the delay, I'm not only uploading this chatper but also the first two facts for James Sirius Potter. Yay. As always, please review. And i'm sorry if this chapter did not live up to expectations._

* * *

**Albus Severus Potter**

10) He hates his name more than _**anything**_; he wonders which legend he's expected to live up to: the _headmaster_, the _spy_, or the _star_.

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It had been a good ten minutes since Platform 9 ¾ was out of sight, and yet, Albus continued to gaze out the window, eyes locked on the spot where his father had been. His father was no longer with him. The realization hit him a lot harder than he had expected, and suddenly he was overcome with fear. What if he messed up? What if people didn't like him? What if he made no friends? What if he was expected to be good at Quidditch? What if….what if he was _**in Slytherin**_?

Bloody hell. He couldn't do this. He needed to get off the train right now. _Right now_. Maybe if he opened the window, somehow he could -

"Al?" He whipped his head around to see Rose Weasley staring at him with obvious concern. "What's the matter? I was telling you all about the different classes and you didn't even respond!" Had she really been talking this whole time? He hadn't even noticed.

Albus finally moved away from the window; slinking down in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to smile convincingly. "I'm fine."

Rose raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really? Because you look terrified."

"I-I'm not!" he argued, wincing when he heard his voice crack. He blushed and stared at the compartment floor. "Okay….maybe a little."

Rose smiled and patted his arm in a reassuring manner. "You'll be fine! It'll be fun, Albus!"

And so, somehow, miraculously, Albus's fear disappeared. Or rather, lessened to the point where he no longer felt the need to empty his stomach on the compartment floor; if fact, he was able to actually listen to Rose's excited ramblings and occasionally add comments during the rare moments when the girl paused for breath.

He was just starting to feel as excited as Rose about the upcoming school year when the door to their compartment opened and a boy stepped in. He looked to be around their age, with messy brown hair and blue eyes. He stared at them for a moment before smiling. "Mind if I sit here with you? A few stink bombs went off in my last compartment."

Albus nodded, scooting closer to the window to allow the boy room to sit, while Rose let out a gasp before saying, "Oh, of course! Stink bombs? Really? How awful! My Uncle George makes some and they smell absolutely dreadful! Are you a first year, too? You look like one. I'm Rose Weasley and I'm a first year also. And this is my cousin, Albus Potter, who's also a first year. Are you excited? I'm excited! I can't wait to be sorted! What house do you want to be in?" She continued on, but the boy lost interest the minute she named Albus. Immediately, he hurried over to take his seat by Albus and stuck out a hand in greeting. "Hullo!" he said cheerfully. "I'm Tony Drott." He paused for just a moment, giving Albus time to shake the boy's outstretched hand, completely overwhelmed by Tony's sudden excitement. "So is it true? Are you really _Harry Potter's _son?"

Albus stared at him in confusion. He opened his mouth to respond, but only a croak escaped. Snapping his mouth shut with a light blush, he nodded. Tony was estatic. "I can't believe it! Potter's son! I've been wanting to meet you, and I hoped we were in the same house! But oh, wow! I can't believe I'm meeting you on the train!"

Albus stared at the boy in confusion before glancing over at Rose. She didn't seem to be happy about being completely forgotten. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was pouting spectacularly - in a way that only Rose could.

Finally, Albus managed to speak. "I-I don't get it? Why does it matter who my dad is?" Sure he had heard stories of some of the things his father had done and how he had played a part in the second Wizarding War, but surely lots of wizards and witches had stories like that. Surely it wasn't all to uncommon for kids from wizarding backgrounds to have parents that had fought in the war.

The other boy seemed completely bewildered by Albus's question. "But he's famous! He's a hero! Savior of the Wizarding World and all that! I bet you'll be just like him!"

Albus stared in shock as the boy began to recount the many deeds of the great Harry Potter. Had his father really done all that? He hadn't realized. To Albus, Harry was just his dad: loving, silly, and embarrassing. It had never occurred to him that others in the Wizarding World knew all about him. Albus had never known he was _famous_. Suddenly, the Fidelius Charm on their house seemed to make a lot more sense.

As Tony continued on with his tales, Albus sunk lower into his seat, fiddling with the end of his jacket.

As if Albus hadn't had enough to worry about already, he know couldn't help wondering what people would think if he didn't live up to his father's legacy. He really hoped he wasn't expected to go find the next Dark Lord and destroy him. Making it through the school year was going to be hard enough.

* * *

"Albus, could you wait a moment please?" Albus paused in the act of gathering his books and glanced up at his potions professor in confusion.

"Umm," he began, glancing over at Adrian Zambini - a fellow Slytherin and a very close friend - with a clueless expression. Adrian snorted at his expression before nodding and starting towards the door. "I'll wait for you outside," he said simply as he left the classroom.

"Okay, sure," Albus mumbled, heading towards the front of the classroom; Professor Huntly was waiting for him at her desk. "Yes, Professor?"

Huntly smiled warmly at him, and Albus was reminded of why she was his favorite professor. "Albus, have you given any thought to what you want to do for your career?" Albus slowly shook his head. "Ah, I see. As a fifth year, that should be one of your top priorities. Your sixth and seventh year schedules should include classes based on your future career." Albus nodded, lowering his head slightly. He knew that fifth year's were expected to know what they wanted to do, but the truth was, he hadn't even started thinking about it. Rose had been thinking about it since her second year, and despite the fact that she changed her mind almost every month, she still was far more prepared than her cousin. Even Scorpius had started debating job options at the beginning of the year. "I haven't started thinking about it a lot yet," he admitted.

Huntly smiled. "Well, that's alright, of course, but you might find it wise to start thinking about it now. Now, I wanted to ask you: have you considered using Potions in your career?"

Albus stared at her in surprise. "Actually, no I haven't." He paused to think. "You mean…..like a Potions Professor here? At Hogwarts?"

"Not necessarily. There are many professions that involve potions. For instance, there are various Ministry branches that require mastery of Potions. Perhaps you would like to work in the Ministry. Your father works there, doesn't he?"

Albus tried to keep himself from wincing. This was the first time in a while that someone had mentioned his father in comparision to him. He knew that Professor Huntly wasn't trying to compare him to his father, but she was suggesting that he wanted to work in the Ministry of Magic, like his father. Just another thing that people would use to compare him to his _fantastic_, _famous_ father. Albus sighed, shaking his head. "No, I would rather not work in the Ministry."

"Ah, I see. Well, as I said, there are various professions that involve potions. I suggest you look into them. You are by far the brightest student I have ever had the pleasure of teaching." Albus blushed bright red with the praise and managed to mumble out a quiet 'thank you.' "And as you mentioned," Huntly continued. "Becoming a Potions Professor is always an option. Perhaps you'll be even greater than your namesake, Severus Snape."

Albus stared at the ground. Nodding he said, "Yes, I'll think about it Professor, thank you."

"Well, you better hurry if you want to make it to your next class in time," Huntly said and Albus hurried out the door. Adrian was waiting outside the classroom, leaning up against the corridor hall.

"What was that all about?" he asked curiously as he and Albus headed towards their next class.

"About my future career," Albus explained. He and Adrian lapsed into silence after that and Albus thought about what Professor Huntly had said. Although he told her that he would consider the option of Potions Professor, he knew that truthfully, he wouldn't. He had had enough of being compared with people already in his life; he wouldn't do anything that would give people reason to compare him with any of his namesakes.

* * *

"So, what do you think about 'Professional Wacspurt Exterminator'?" Scorpius asked in a bored voice, looking up at Albus.

Albus laughed; catching his breath he asked, "What's a wacspurt?"

Scorpius blinked at him. "No idea," he said with a completely expressionless face. Cracking a grin, he added, "I heard Lorcan Scamander and your cousin Louis going on about them the other day though. Apparently they're bad news. So what do you think? Sound like a promising career?"

Rose, who had been engrossed in her book until this point, smacked him in the arm. "Stop joking around. This is serious." She began skimming through her book once more. "It's very important that we know what we want to do with our lives before we leave Hogwarts."

"Well maybe that is what I want to do with my life, Rosie," Scorpius responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Albus. Albus stiffled a laugh. "And besides, why are you so worried about this? I thought you decided last year you wanted to be the History Professor. Which I say, go for it. It'd be nice to know future students don't have to suffer through Binns."

"Though, you don't suppose she'll be worse than Binns, do you?" Albus asked, grinning at his friend. Rose raised her head to glare at both of them.

"Belt up, you two. And for your information," she said, turning towards the blond next to her. "I've decided against History Professor."

Albus laughed as the two began bickering - as usual - and turned towards the parchment before him. Only a week after Professor Huntly had talked to him, all fifth years had been told to come up with possible career choices and turn them into their head of house. Apparenlty, their head of house would then help them sign up for the correct classes their two remaining years at Hogwarts.

Scoripus, Rose, and Albus had all met up in the library with the same goal of figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives. So far, the only one of them that had actually had any success was Rose. The problem was that out of the twenty possible careers she had chosen, she hadn't been able to narrow it down. Scorpius and Albus were having the exact opposite problem. Scorpius had given up after ten minutes of seriously trying to figure out a future career and had instead been listing the craziest professions he could possibly think of for the past twenty minutes. Albus hadn't been able to think of anything and had turned down anything that his friends had suggested.

He signed, running a hand through his hair. _'Alright, Al, this is easy,' _he told himself. _'All you have to do is think of the one thing you want to do for the rest of your life.'_

When nothing came to him, he lowered his head onto the table in defeat, ignoring the sounds of Rose and Scorpius's on-going argument. _'Why is this so hard?'_ he wondered. It probably wouldn't have been so hard if he had been okay with teaching potions. His friends and family couldn't understand why he didn't want to. He loved potions, and had a definite gift for potion brewing. He also quite enjoyed teaching. The problem lied in his name - and the fact that every time people mentioned his potions talent, they also mentioned his namesake, Severus Snape.

'_I don't want to do anything that will cause people to compare me with Snape or my father,'_ Albus thought decisively. _'Now I just have to think of what I want to be, more than anything, when I grow up. What I want other people to see me as.'_

After thinking for a moment, Albus knew that there was only one answer to that. He also knew, his head of house wasn't going to like it very much.

* * *

The next day, Albus was called into his head of house's office to discuss why, exactly, he had written : _When I grow up, I want to be Albus Severus Potter. Not the boy named after Albus Dumbledore or Severus Snape or Harry Potter's son. Just Al, and nothing else._


	11. JSP Fact 1: Drop Out

_AN: In case anyone has forgot or in unaware, Fred Weasley II is the son of George Weasley and Angelina Johnson. Domonique Weasley is the second daughter of Bill and Fleaur._

_

* * *

_

**James Sirius Potter**

1) He drops out of Hogwarts his sixth year in order to play Quidditch professionally, much to the displeasure of his mother.

.

.

"That is the stupidest thing you have ever said."

"Oh come on, my dad never even went for his seventh year!"

Dominique smacked James. "In case you've forgotten, he had a perfectly good excuse!"

Fred laughed. "But don't worry, mate," he said, patting James on the head reassuringly. "If you have to skip your seventh year to defeat a dark wizard, I'm sure your parent's will understand."

"Ha. Ha. Funny, Fred," James muttered, rubbing his sore arm. "I know Mum and Dad probably won't be too happy, but I'm still going to do it."

"You're honestly going to drop out? James, that's ridiculous," Dominique said, frowning, her hands on her hips.

"Yes, I am," James replied. "The Chudley Canons have already offered me a spot on the team. And just think! Professional keeper at only sixteen! I'll be famous!"

"Like you really need to inflate your ego any more," Dominique growled.

"You don't have to drop out, James," Fred said reasonably, placing a hand on Dominique's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. She was obviously in no mood for comforting, however, and merely glared at him before smacking it away. Pretending as if nothing had happened, Fred continued, "They've already said you're the most talented new face they've seen; they'll wait two more years to have you."

"How do you know that?" James cried, pulling at his hair in frustration. "What if they don't? What if they find someone better while I'm stuck here in school? I'll lose my spot and it'll be harder to find someone willing to take me! Quidditch is all I want to do, you know that! Here's my chance!"

"James, you'll easily be able to find a team willing to take you once you graduate. Plus you'll have a backup. What happens if you take this job and later in the future don't want to continue Quidditch? No job will take you when they see that you dropped out in your sixth year," Fred said, ever the voice of reason. "Honestly, it's just another year and a half. I think you can wait that long."

"But I can't! I don't want to be here wasting my time with N.E.W.T.s when I could be playing professional Quidditch!"

Dominique and Fred looked at each other, and then back at the distraught James in front of them. "Fine, your choice," Dominique said irritably. "Don't want to take our advice, then don't. Have fun telling your Mum."

James paled considerably, looking completely terrified by the very thought.

* * *

"Er, James? That's a howler," Henry Woods said, pointing at the red envelope that had just been dropped in front of the black haired boy.

"I know what it is," James muttered angrily, setting down his fork and cautiously picking up the howler.

He stared at it in fear, unwilling to open it. "Better open it, mate," Fred said, smirking. "Last time I avoided one it caught my robes on fire." James chuckled slightly, remembering the time in third year when Fred had indeed let his father's howler sit too long. It had definitely been entertaining to say the least. Leave it to Fred Weasley the Second to manage to make more of a show out of opening a howler than it already was.

Taking a deep breath, James opened the envelope. At once it transformed itself into a pair of floating scarlet lips.

"_JAMES SIRIUS POTTER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? __**DROPPING **__**OUT**__? THAT IS THE __**STUPIDIST**__ THING YOU HAVE EVER THOUGHT! YOUR FATHER AND I ARE ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS!" _his mother's voice screeched, causing every head in the Great Hall to turn his way.

"_We understand wanting to play Quidditch professionally, James_," a much calmer - but still plenty stern - voice belonging to his father added. _"However, that does __**not**__ mean we agree with your decision. Dropping out is foolish."_

"_Foolish? IT'S DOWNRIGHT __**IMBECILIC**__!" _James winced - along with the many people around him - at his mother's shrill tone. It was starting to reach octaves that would cause dogs pain to hear._ "This had better be a __**JOKE**__, James Sirius Potter!"_

And with that, the howler ripped itself into little pieces, falling onto the plate of a horrified James Sirius Potter. He glanced around at his fellow Gryffindors and managed a soft chuckle. "Well, at least she didn't decide to show up here in person," he said grimly.

Fred laughed and James turned to glare at him. "I suggest you wait until you leave Hogwarts to send her your reply," Fred advised. "Then she won't know where to send the next howler."

Dominique rolled her eyes. "I'd advise he waits until he wins the Quidditch World Cup to send her his reply. Then at least the pride might subdue the murderous rage."

James glared at both of them. "You two are so helpful, you know that?" he asked sarcastically.


	12. JSP Fact 2: Bet

_An: All I have to say is, Hagrid's accent is really hard to write. So if it's not exactly right, sorry. And yes, the reason the creature is only described as a creature, is because I couldn't think of anything. Woops._

* * *

**James Sirius Potter**

2) He spends a night camped out in the Forbidden Forest just to prove he can; _but no one needs to know he was absolutely terrified the entire time._

.

.

"Are you actually going to go through with this?"

James stopped his packing to turn towards the door. Fred stood in the entrance to their dorm room, staring at him bemusedly. James smiled, shoving more food into his already nearly bursting bag. "Why not? You think I can't do it?"

Fred rolled his eyes; entering the room, he sat on the end of his bed, staring at James. "Actually, I think you can. You're too damn stubborn for your own good." Smirking, the darker skinned boy pulled out a folded parchment from his robe pocket. He tossed it at James, who caught it and unfolded it to find a list of names, along with the words "yes" or "no" written next to each one.

James scanned through the list, smiling. "Is this what I think it is, Fred?"

Grinning, Fred replied, "Oh, definitely, mate! It's the list of people who have told me I'm a better quidditch player than you could ever hope to be!"

James rolled his eyes. "Right, Fred. Of course."

"Okay, you got me, it's not that. Though I'm sure I could manage to get twice as many signatures for that." He avoided the pillow James threw at his head and continued speaking, "While I don't necessarily agree with your decision, I know better than to let an opportunity pass me by. So I did the thing all respectable wizards would do when I heard what you were planning: I took bets."

James laughed, handing the list back to his cousin. "More than half of them said no, the prats."

Fred nodded. "Right, so whatever you do, don't you dare come back until breakfast."

"I wasn't planning to, anyway." He hoisted his now full back over his shoulders. It contained all the things he deemed necessary for a night in the Forbidden Forest: a blanet, water bottles, candy, and plenty of food swiped from the kitchen.

"No, no, I mean it," Fred said seriously. "Even if those centaurs try to scalp you, or maybe the giant spiders will try to eat you, or perhaps a vampire will come to suck your blood, or there's always the chance that a -" He noticed the glared James was giving him and laughed. "But whatever happens, don't forget," he said seriously, placing a hand on James's shoulder. "I'm betting a lot of money that you'll make it through the whole night. So don't you prove me wrong."

"Well, nice to see your priorities are in order, mate."

"Always."

They smirked at each other: identical grins that would have their mothers and aunts worried for hours. "I saw Albus's name was on the list," James said as he made his way towards the door.

Fred nodded. "Sure was. I made sure to go inform him of your plan. And the bet of course. A few of his fellow Slytherins got in on it too." Chuckling, he added, "He said 'No', by the way. Doesn't have a whole lot of faith in you, I guess."

James put his hand over his heart dramatically. "My own flesh and blood. How could he?" He dropped the act to eagerly ask, "So how much did he bet, anyway?"

As they walked down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, Fred laughed. "Plenty."

Cheers erupted in the common room as the two boys entered. More than half of Gryffindor had stayed awake to see James off.

At once people began shouting demands at him, each trying to out-yell everyone else.

"Come on, Potter! I bet my whole allowance on you!"

"I'm staying up all night to see what time you try to sneak back in here, James!"

"You better be out of there within the first five hours, James," Dominique yelled, shaking a fist threateningly. "I bet plenty on it!"

James maturely stuck his tongue out at her; Dominique gladly returned the gesture.

"You're being a proper idiot, Potter," one of the prefects growled. "But I've agreed to keep quiet." The other prefects and rule-abiding students nodded their heads in agreement.

James raised an eyebrow at Fred, who merely grinned back at him. _I persuaded them,_ he mouthed.

Turning back towards the crowd of Gryffindors, James laughed amongst all the shouts and bowed dramatically. As he stood, he raised his hands to quiet the cheers and yells. The crowd quieted at once to hear what could possibly be his last words. "While I'd love to stay and chat," James said gleefully. "Breakfast starts at seven, and as I'm supposed to be there a full twelve hours, I'd better get going." The shouts erupted once more. "Thank you, thank you," James called as he exited the common room, Fred following close behind.

As soon as they were alone out in the hall, Fred turned to James and asked, suddenly serious, "You got it then?"

James nodded, grinning. He pulled something from his pocket - something shimmering and silky - and threw it around his shoulders; the minute his father's - though now his brother's - Invisibility Cloak fell over him, James Sirius Potter disappeared completely from view.

"Managed to convince Al to let me borrow it for the night," James's disembodied voice whispered. "Said something about hexing off a very dear body part if I don't get it back to him tomorrow."

Fred laughed. "Right, then," he said through his laughs, staring at the spot where James's voice had come from. "Good luck, don't die, see you in the morning." He turned back to the Fat Lady, saying, "Rat's tail." The portrait swung open; he was just climbing back in the common room once more when he remembered something and turned back to where James stood. "And if our parent's catch wind of this somehow," Fred said, grinning. "Well, just remember I had absolutely nothing to do with this, of course."

He closed the portrait behind him, and James was left alone in the deserted hallway.

Grinning, he started towards the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

The Forbidden Forest wasn't a cheery place to be at night. Not that it was a cheery place to be in at any time of the day. It actually hadn't seemed quite so bad when he had first arrived; of course, it had still been light then, and obviously things were much worse when the sun set. James wasn't quite sure how long he had been in there now - it couldn't have been more than an hour or two - but he had already decided that he had been in there quite long enough for his tastes.

"Ten more hours…." he whispered to himself. "Or at least, something like that. Come on, James, you can make it ten more bloody hours."

Something shrieked from within the depths of the forest and he jumped about a foot in the air, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. Whipping around, he brandished his wand, waving it back and forth in what he hoped was a threatening manner. However, if he really was shaking as much as he thought he was, then perhaps it wasn't really threatening at all.

Luckily, no giant spiders came into view. No herd of centaurs threatened to spear him. In fact, there was absolutely nothing living in sight. That was not nearly as comforting as he wished it was.

James glanced all around, turning in a circle, making sure he hadn't missed anything; making sure that no strange creature was about to sneak up on him. After deciding that their really was no imminent threat, he sat down on a thick tree root, trying to get comfortable. He pulled out some chocolate frogs but after opening them, decided he really wasn't all that hungry after all. Instead he lit his wand and attempted to distract himself from the forest by reading the wizard cards.

Three hours later, James found that sitting on the forest outskirts was driving him insane. He hadn't gotten any peace of mind since the sun had set hours ago; he jumped at every sound - and in this forest, there were quite a lot - and panicked every time the shadows around him moved.

Reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor, for Godric's sake, he steeled up his courage and trudged deeper into the forest. He didn't plan to go far - or at least not far enough that he couldn't run right back out again in a hurry - but at least deep enough to get a look around. It hadn't seemed a horrible plan when he first had it - but then again, they never do.

However, the minute he saw the great shape looming in front of him, he realized his mistake.

He then nearly fainted on the spot when the creature began advancing on him. It was too dark in the forest for James to see the creature clearly; he couldn't identify it at all. That didn't stop it from being absolutly terrifying.

Letting out a screech - one that James would swear had never come from him - he turned tail at once and began running as fast as he possibly could. The creature kept on advancing. He realized then, that it was a very foolish way to die. His father had survived Voldemort, after all, and here he was about to die because of his own stupid bet.

James turned back towards the beast and was in the process of yelling out a curse when his foot caught a tree root and he was sent towards the ground, rolling through the dirt. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he tried to see his pursuer. The fall had knocked his glasses off and James could just barely make out the blurry shape coming ever closer. Just as he raised his wand once again, another shape, blurred and distorted by his lack of glasses, suddenly jumped in between the advancing creature and the fallen boy. James stared in confusion and wonder when the second shape - which, though huge and blurry, was distinctly more humanlike - tossed a large piece of meat into the shadows of the forest. The creature abandoned James at once and hurried towards the fallen meat.

Using this distraction, the humanlike shape scooped the dazed James up into his arms and hurried out of the forest.

"Blood hell, what were you thinkin'?" James blinked in surprise at the familiar voice. Looking up, he saw the face of Rubeus Hagrid staring down at him.

"Uh….." he muttered, unable to come up with a good reply. It was then that he realized that Hagrid was carrying him towards his hut and the two had cleared the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest. James's competative streak suddenly reminded him of the bet. "No!" he yelled, kicking his legs and attempting to get free. He was putting up such a fuss that Hagrid finally dropped him. The boy sprung to his feet and would have run straight back into the forest if Hagrid had not taken firm hold of his sweatshirt hood, effectively keeping him in place.

"You just about died in there, James!" Hagrid yelled, tugging him away from the forest. "What do you want ter go back there for?"

"I've just got a few more hours!" James yelled, staring up at him pleadingly.

"A few more hours of what?"

"The bet! I've just got to last a few more hours! Come on, Hagrid! Please!"

Hagrid looked sternly down on him before looking back towards the forest. James grew hopeful; perhaps he was considering letting him go back. His hopes were dashed when the Gameskeeper lifted James up and hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Carrying him into the house, he dropped the boy onto his floor, locking the door behind them.

"A bet? You went in there alone at night to win a bet?"

James felt suddenly sheepish. Picking himself up off the floor, he took a seat at Hagrid's table. "Well, McCormick made a bet with me. I said I could handle anything and he said I wouldn't be able to last a full night in the Forbidden Forest alone."

"And you wanted ter prove him wrong? That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

James hung his head. "Yeah, I know."

"You almost died just a few minutes ago!"

"Yeah. It was stupid." He went to stand up, but Hagrid pushed him back down.

"I suppose you still want ter win this bet, right?"

* * *

"Alright, alright, pay up!" Fred Weasley II sang gleefully. "Thank you, thank you, and thaaaank you!" He gladly took the money the other Gryffindors were handing him. He looked over at James, who was just as happily collecting the money with him.

A few of the Gryffindors - those who had had an unexplainable amount of faith in James - were cheering as they accepted their share of the winnings. The majority, however, was grumbling and glaring at James as they handed over their money, Dominique included.

"Blimey, James, I can't believe you did it!" a sixth year cried.

James smirked at him. "Well you shouldn't have doubted me!"

"How'd you do it?" a first year asked, amazed.

James smirked at Fred. "Oh, you know. I have my ways. Though I have to say," he said, pausing in his money collecting to rub at his neck. "I am pretty sore."

Sleeping on Hagrid's floor wasn't necessarily comfortable, after all.

* * *

_Oh James, you little liar._


	13. JSP Fact 3: Ambition

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__

_Please don't expect the next time for at least a few days. I'm taking exams all of next week at school, so I will be studying starting tonight until Friday morning._

_Thank you for all of your reviews; please continue._

_

* * *

_

**James Sirius Potter**

3) His greatest ambition during his school years is to make a bigger name for himself as a prankster than his two namesakes _combined_.

.

.

Starting with James's first year at Hogwarts, Harry had begun receiving lots of letters from McGonagall - now _Headmistress_ of Hogwarts. Normally, Harry would be happy to hear from the eldery professor - who he had always rather liked - and would have loved to hear how well Hogwarts was running since he had last been there. However, it was the contents of the letters that were always worrisome.

.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, would like to inform you of your son's actions. Yesterday, Mr. James Sirius Potter decided it would be in the student's best interest to release a total of twelve fireworks in his Potions class. If this had been the first time something of this nature had occured, I would not have bothered to send home a letter. However, this is unfortunately not the first time something like this has happened and I thought it best to inform you. I would also like to remind his uncle that Wizard Weasley Wheezes products are banned from the school grounds, and that neither James Potter nor Fred Weasley need to be given anything from his store._

_Signed,_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

**.**

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Your son managed to explode an entire classroom yesterday. I believe you understand how serious this is; no students were injured, fortunately, though many supplies and text books were damaged. Myself and other teachers are looking into the matter and will inform you of the details later. I would advise talking to your son about this._

_Signed_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

**.**

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_This is the fifth time this month I have had your son, James, in my office. Apparently he, along with Fred Weasley and Dominique Weasley, decided that it would be wonderful to cause all of the food in the Great Hall to explode at once, coating all of the students and professors in their meals._

_As detentions do not seem to be fazing him at all, I will ask that you do something about this._

_Signed_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

(Shortly after this had arrived, George received a letter from Fred insisting that he had - for once - absolutely nothing to do with this. Bill and Fleur, meanwhile, had received a letter from Dominique stating that it had all been her idea.)

.

_Harry_,

(It seemed that McGonagall was so used to sending Harry letters about James's many mishaps and pranks that she had decided to just drop all formalities.)

_Control your child. I don't think even you or the Weasley twins caused this much trouble. Even your father and his friends were never sent to the Headmaster's office quite this many times._

_He is in his fifth year now, and I have sent more letters home to you than I can count. I believe he has been in the headmaster's office more than Severus ever was during his short time as Headmaster._

_He is serving detention again tonight for charming the suits of armor to follow the first person that passed them around for a full twenty four hours, with the help of Mr. Fred Weasley and Ms. Dominique Weasley, no doubt. I'm sure you can imagine the chaos of suits of armor trailing after concerned students, sitting beside them in the Great Hall, crowding classrooms, scaring first years._

_As his father, it is your responsibility to confront him about this._

_Signed,_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

**.**

"Harry. This is not funny. Harry!" Ginny glared at her husband, who was doubled over laughing after reading McGonagall's latest letter.

"Oh, come on, Gin," he said, catching his breath. He removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes, which had begun to tear up. "You have to admit that last one is funny. It would have been quite a sight to see, I'm sure."

Ginny huffed angrily, grabbing the letter out of his hands. "It is not funny at all. Even you, Ron, and Hermione never got in this much trouble, and you three were always sneaking off to the Chamber of Secrets or freeing wanted murderer's."

Thsi only made him laugh harder. Ginny sighed, crossing her arms irately. She waited for him to stop before saying, "The three of them also managed to fulfill my brother's promise, too."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Which brother?" he asked.

"George."

Harry stared in confusion before asking, "What promise?"

Ginny frowned, narrowing her eyes. "I received a package in the mail today. According to Bill and Angelina, they both received the same present."

Harry was fully intrigued now. "What, Ginny?"

She pulled something from the closet and showed it to him. It took him a minute to realize it was a toilet seat. A Hogwarts toilet seat.

Harry couldn't reply; he was laughing too hard.

"Hilarious, isn't it?" Ginny asked sourly, frowning at it. "James suggests we frame it."

__

____

* * *

_They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.  
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."  
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."  
"George!"  
"Only joking, Mom." (Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone, pg. 97)_


	14. SHM Fact 1: Sorting

_1) Yes, I'm back! Yay! *parties along with y'all*  
2) I've decided to mess up the order and not keep all the ten facts about each character together. Really sorry if this is confusing, but this makes it a lot easier on me. AND will mean that I will update more often, because the reason (one of them, at least) that I haven't updated recently is because I was having trouble with the rest of James Sirius Potter's facts. Why? No clue, just am._

_3) Who has seen the last movie and thinks Albus is just adorable? (Not how I pictured him, exactly, but he doesn't have glasses so I'm happy). And he has a pet ferret. *grins* Just saying._

* * *

**Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy**

1) His sorting took a long time, as the hat had trouble deciding where to put him before declaring him a Ravenclaw, but it _never_ _once_ considered placing him in Slytherin.

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.

Scorpius blinks in confusion. Did he honestly just hear the Sorting Hat scream _Ravenclaw?_

Judging by the complete silence in the Great Hall, he's going to assume that _yes_, he has indeed become the newest addition to the Ravenclaw house.

Well that's certainly all fine and dandy to him, but apparently not to the rest of the school. He stands and removes the hat from his head slowly and carefully, placing it back on the stool, feeling all the time that he's an interesting new creature under observation. Curiously, and perhaps a tad bit fretfully, he looks out at the silent crowd. They all look completely shocked; even those that are muggleborn and unfamiliar with the name Malfoy appear to be shocked by the complete silence in the hall. He's too scared to look behind him at the professor's table; he really doesn't want to see them all completely flabbergasted as well.

He tries to keep himself from shrieking in utter annoyance when he realizes not even his own _house_ is cheering for him.

But did he really expect them to? Who would ever want a _**Malfoy**_ in their house? After all, they're all just bloody Death Eaters and muggle haters, the whole lot of them. Everyone knows _**that**_, as proven by his lonely train ride.

And then, suddenly, a young Ravenclaw stands and begins clapping. And the rest of the students follow her example, all politely clapping as he makes his way to the Ravenclaw table. Even a few of the Ravenclaws cheer, and he receives one or two slaps on the back when he sits down. He receives just as many glares, of course, but he's going to politely ignore those.

_He's the __**first **__Malfoy in something besides Slytherin, _he thinks as the sorting continues. He would certainly be lying if he said he didn't feel pretty damn proud of himself right now.


	15. SHM Fact 2: Hair

**Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy**

2) He tries to style his hair in the _least Malfoy-ish _way possible.

.

.

Albus isn't very surprised when Scorpius shows up with his hair dyed jet black; in fact, he's probably the only one who **isn't** surprised. He doesn't ask why his friend dyed his hair, like many others have asked already; he does ask how he managed to dye it over the summer without his parent's objecting. Scorpius doesn't answer.

And so the subject is dropped.

Albus knows better than to continue talking about it; he understands why his friend dyed his hair. In fact, the thought inspires him. He wonders how he would look with blond hair. Certainly he couldn't look worse than Scorpius currently does with black hair.

Somehow, he manages to look even paler with dark hair; it certainly doesn't suit him at all. Albus wonders whether he's still considered the Ravenclaw heartthrob with his new hair color. But Albus also knows that has absolutely nothing to do with his decision to dye it in the first place.

At least he accomplished what he wanted to: Scorpius definitely doesn't look like his father with black hair.

.

.

He doesn't ask when Scorpius comes up to him in the Great Hall with platinum blond hair. He doesn't have to, though, because Scorpius mumbles out something about Rose saying it looked 'dreadfully awful.' Albus stifles a laugh; leave it to his cousin to be completely tactless with everything she says.

With another glance at his best mate, Albus realizes that while Scorpius no longer sports black hair, he has still managed to make it look different from his father's: the third year's hair is now short and spiked all over, with long, messy bangs hanging just over his gray eyes. Even though it's still Malfoy-blond - _a term coined by an irate Scorpious a few months back -_ it manages to remain completely un-Malfoy-like. Albus smirks slightly at his friend, giving a simple nod of approval.

.

.

Not more than three months later, Albus remains the only one unsurprised when Scorpious comes to class with bright blue hair.


End file.
